Why the Mafia’s Wife Kills Chapter 06

Why the Mafia’s Wife Kills Chapter 06

Freya started sobbing quietly.

I turned to the table, digging through the mess until I found a mostly intact piece of cake.

Strawberry shortcake. Freya’s favorite.

“You made a wish, right?”

I carried it to her.

“Wish what? That he marries you soon?”

Freya shrank into Dante’s chest.

“Donna, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”

“Sorry for what?” I asked.

“I… I shouldn’t have been with Dante…”

She cried, her makeup running down her face.

“Simone!” Dante roared. “Leave her alone!”

I ignored him, staring at Freya.

“That night in my living room.

Did he hold you just like this and say he’d marry you?”

Freya wouldn’t speak.

“ANSWER ME!” My voice snapped.

She flinched hard, tears pouring down.

Dante shoved her behind him.

“ENOUGH! You deal with ME!”

“With you?” I held the cake up.

“No thanks.”

in one motion, I smashed the entire cake into Freya’s face.

SPLAT.

Cream covered her completely.

Strawberries fell from her hair.

She screamed and stumbled back, wiping her face wildly.

“Simone!”

Dante snapped. He shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward.

My stiletto heel stepped on broken glass.

I nearly fell.

Lucius caught me from behind.

His face had gone cold too.

“Dante.”

Lucius let go of me and stepped forward, standing toe-to-toe with Dante.

“Touch her again. I DARE YOU.”

Two huge men stared each other down.

The ballroom was silent except for Freya’s sobs.

“Lucius, this is between me and my wife. Stay out of it.” Dante gritted.

“Wife?”

Lucius laughed.

“Bringing a mistress home while you’re married?

Guess Lombardi vows expire.

Once they’re old news, they don’t count anymore.”

Dante’s face turned even darker.

Being mocked by another mafia family for breaking his own family’s code was the worst insult.

I steadied myself and brushed off my dress.

“Dante, we’re getting a divorce.”

He stared at me. “What trick are you playing now?”

“I’m done playing. I’m tired.

The terms I said still stand.

Twenty percent of the company.

Her public apology.

No takebacks.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Then see you in family court.”

I turned and walked away.

My heels crunched over glass.

“Simone!” Dante shouted behind me.

I didn’t look back.

At the door, I paused and turned around.

I looked at the wrecked room.

At Freya, covered in cake.

At Dante, purple with anger.

“Oh, and,” I said.

“Happy birthday, Miss Freya.

One you’ll never forget, right?”

i pushed the door open and left.

Lucius followed me to the parking lot.

Neither of us spoke.

He opened my car door for me.

I climbed in, and my whole body relaxed.

My hands were shaking.

Lucius got in the driver’s seat.

He didn’t start the car right away.

He handed me a bottle of water.

“Thanks.”

I drank half of it, my throat finally feeling less raw.

“Where to?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I stared out the window. “I don’t want to go back to that house.”

Lucius nodded and started the engine.

We drove two blocks. At a red light, he suddenly said,

“That was badass back there.”

I blinked and looked at him.

“Really.”

Lucius smiled.

“Way cooler than high school.

You used to cry in the bathroom when people picked on you.”

“I did NOT cry.” I argued.

“You did. Remember Serena, the blonde girl?

She stole your boyfriend, and you hid in the bathroom for hours.”

“…Don’t bring up old garbage.”

The light turned green. The car moved on.

After a minute, I said, “Take me to a hotel.”

“Why not my place?”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“Things are weird between us.

Your place isn’t appropriate.”

Lucius glanced at me and didn’t push it.

He pulled up at a five-star hotel.

“I have a permanent suite here,” he said. “Stay there.”

“I can get my own-”

“Shut up and get out.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

I followed him inside.

The front desk knew him and handed over a key card without a word.

Top-floor penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows showed half the city’s night skyline.

Lucius pressed the key card into my hand.

“Get some sleep. We’ll deal with everything tomorrow.”

“Lucius.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you helping me?” I asked.

He stood in the warm hallway light, looking at me for a long time.

“What do you think?” he replied.

I didn’t answer.

“Good night.”

He turned toward the elevator.

He paused halfway and looked back.

“Oh, and if you need a lawyer for the divorce, I know a guy.”

“I have my own lawyer.”

“Fine.” He nodded and stepped into the elevator.

The doors closed.

I swiped the key and went inside.

I leaned against the door and slid to the floor.

My phone rang. It was Dante.

I didn’t answer.

It rang seven, eight times. Then stopped.

A text came in.

[Tomorrow morning 9 AM. Come home. We talk.]

I stared at the message for a long time.

Then I typed: [Okay.]